Intermezzo
by Jimli
Summary: Please note: Sequel to Sand in a Sieve and Small Victories. Read them first. Vergil, oddly quiet and detached for two weeks, is out, presumably on a job. His wife decides to take their son to Devil May Cry, only to find its proprietor also acting strangely. She tries to chalk it up to drinking and Eva's birthday, but maybe there is something else going on? Very light lemon. OCs. AU


**Intermezzo**

 _Disclaimer (as translated from Matsuo Basho's works):_

 _My short disclaimer:_

 _Devil May Cry is not mine_

 _Please do not sue me_

* * *

She walked into Devil May Cry with her son in tow. Vergil had disappeared without explanation, but he hardly said anything to her anymore, not since that strange evening a couple of weeks ago. They had argued (not so strange), and she had been waiting on the stairs for him to decide if he wanted to go up to their room or dismiss her to make dinner. Instead, an odd light had come into and back out of his eyes. He had turned and walked away, grabbing his coat and Yamato before disappearing out the door.

He'd been back, later, after she was in bed, but he'd said nothing and done nothing. The following two weeks he had been somewhere between a ghost and a zombie: either not there, or mechanically going through the motions.

She sighed, shaking her head to come back to the here and now.

"We're closed," came the automatic response from the desk.

She looked at the hunter lounging there, looking resplendent in that long red coat, his hair hanging down, a magazine draped over his face. They were so perfectly identical, and yet so very different. She sighed, wondering what sort of mood he was in today.

 _Wait. It's their mom's birthday, isn't it? Well, that explain_ _s_ _a lot._

"Is your brother here?" she asked hesitantly.

He slid the magazine from his face, his eyes uncharacteristically roving her.

"No," he answered flatly. "He wanted to take this case that came up on one of the islands. Probably won't be back for awhile."

"Do you mind if we stay here, then? The house feels empty enough even with all of us there."

He shrugged, closing his eyes again but not replacing the magazine. She made her waddling way to the couch to sit down. As she sat, her typical groan turned sharp as a contraction hit her.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, noting the unusual amount of concern in his voice. She glanced at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking and found his icy-blue eyes locked onto hers.

 _Is that...love..? Did he love her?_

She shook the incredible thought away, and he took a swig of whatever he was drinking, the moment gone.

"I'm really sorry about that," he said quietly. She looked up curiously, following his gaze to her swollen belly. She nodded, a swell of tears coming up. "That never should have happened," he continued morosely, anger tinging his voice.

"It's-"

"Don't tell me it's okay!" he snapped. She blinked, shocked at his tone, at his words.

He shut his eyes tight, clearly reigning in his anger, but she had the impression that he wasn't angry at _her_.

Her son whimpered from the floor where he'd been playing, and she realized how close the hunter was to triggering.

She rose, approaching the desk cautiously. He opened his eyes, sliding his gaze to her as she neared. She hesitantly cupped his cheek, smiling.

"I was going to say it was nice to finally hear that."

He closed his eyes once more, his anger gone as he leaned into her caress. She tried to pull her hand away, and he briefly stopped her, murmuring, "It's good to feel your touch like that."

 _How drunk_ is _he?_

Her son whimpered again, and she turned towards him with a sunny smile. He was looking uncertainly towards the desk. She walked over and scooped him up, hugging him carefully.

"Are you about ready for your nap?"

He shook his head, but yawned deeply, rubbing at his eyes.

"Where is a good place to put him down?"

"There's a spare bedroom upstairs, across the hall. You want me to take him up?"

She started, looking at him curiously. He kept his eyes locked on her face, nothing but seriousness in his handsome features.

She shook her head. "No. I've got him."

When she came back down the stairs, he was watching her, occasionally taking another swig from his bottle.

"Are...are you okay? You're acting….odd."

"Just thinking about everything that's gone wrong in my life since that night in the bar when my twin and I decided to hit on the same pretty girl, and she went out with the wrong brother."

 _Wow. That was candid._

"Look, about that night-"

"No," he cut off sharply. "You picked the wrong brother. We both know it." He took another drink, scowling at the desk. "Probably all three of us," he growled.

She shook her head, wondering at all of this. He had certainly never talked to her like this before!

"And then your first spawn," he continued. "And what a wonderful three years you've had with him. Then things were really great, right? All the fighting," he paused to take drink, "all the abuse-"

"I haven't been-"

"Really?" he shot back. "Seems to me you are neglected, used for pleasure, used to keep house and raise kids, then neglected some more."

He tried to take a drink, found the bottle empty, and smashed it in frustration. She took the opportunity to go to him.

"What is this all about?" she asked gently, catching his arm. They both looked at her hand, and she idly stroked the leather. He made a small noise, and she jerked. He caught her hand with his, pulling her gently towards him.

She frowned, uncertain, then his mouth found hers in a tender, needy, loving kiss. She responded, greedy for the affection, and things moved way too fast for thought.

She was on the desk, he was on her, hands roving her body, then he was in her. It was fast but tender, more love in the act than she'd ever felt.

Her cheeks felt wet when he finally moved from her, his face turned away as he went towards the bathroom. She touched her eyes and realized he must have been the one crying.

She went into the kitchen to make a snack for her spawn, clucking over the woeful supplies Dante had in the refrigerator. Alcohol, milk, leftover pizza….

"I can go get whatever you need," he said from the doorway. He had obviously showered and changed most of his clothes, although not his coat.

"I was just looking for something for our snack time," she replied. She listed off a few things, then hesitantly added a few more for later on. He merely nodded before setting off.

He returned shortly before her son called from upstairs. Without a word, he left the groceries on the counter and went upstairs.

The sound of laughter reached her, adult and childish, and she peeked out the door to see him carrying the boy, tickling him.

She didn't even know what to think at this point.

They all three had a snack, and both males helped her put things away and clean up afterward, then they sat down at the couch to watch TV.

She fell asleep in his arms, snuggled happily against his chest, her spawn long since asleep at the other end of the couch.

She awoke in Dante's bed, with the hunter lying next to her. He wasn't asleep, however, and the smile he gave her as she turned to face him was vaguely shy.

They made love again, longer-lasting this time, more passionate, less tender, but just as loving. She fell asleep again immediately afterward and woke to the smell of food.

He brought breakfast to her in bed.

"I don't know what you were drinking yesterday, but you should do it more often," she teased, feeling more at ease than she had in a long time.

He smiled, set the tray down carefully, and sat on the bed next to her.

"I told you. I've been thinking. More thinking than drinking," he replied seriously. "You deserve better. I'm sorry you picked the wrong twin. I'm sorry for the misery you've been through because of it. I'm sorry about the way your family treats you. I'm more sorry than you can imagine about your current state," he glanced at her pregnant belly. "I can't undo any of it, and I don't think I can make it right, but I'm sorry enough to try."

Everything she could think of to say sounded somewhere between hollow at best and patronizing at worst.

All that day and the next, he seemed to be living up to his words. He was solicitous, kind, laughed easily, played with her son, helped her in the kitchen. They didn't make love again until the evening hours, when they went to bed, but it was always sweet and passionate.

He easily picked up on what she needed without her having to ask, comment, or even give a glance. They were so in tune everything was seamless.

He treated her so well, made her so happy, and she found herself musing over his insistence that she'd picked the wrong brother.

On the fourth day, however, she woke up alone, hearing voices downstairs. Vergil's distinctive voice sounded strange to her ears, having only heard Dante's tones for the past few days. She shook off her thoughts and went straight to the spare room across the hall to pick up her son.

After gathering everything of theirs, she led him down the stairs.

The twins abruptly ended their conversation, and neither of them looked at her. She sighed inwardly.

 _He knows._

Nothing was exchanged between the adults, except a few items Vergil took from her to carry.

As they walked out, Vergil paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder at his brother.

"Thank you," he said a little stiffly.

She blinked at him, puzzled. He gave her a small smile, then guided her gently down the street towards home.


End file.
